Please don’t infantilise trans guys. Especially trans guys in their late teens/20s who look younger than their cis counterparts because of a lack of T. If you treat a cis boy as mature, you better not talk down to a trans guy of the same age as if he’s somehow more ‘innocent’ or in any way less mature just because he might not have the “”“signs”“” of being a grown male.
here’s to the women with fire in their eyes, the ones who sing too loud and love too hard. the one’s who know what they want, the ones who know how to get it, and the ones who will do whatever is needed to get it. here’s to the fighters.
here’s to the women with clouds in their eyes. the ones who hum under their breath, whose smiles can light up a thousand cities, the ones who love gently. the one’s who don’t want for much, but they will take what they do want. here’s to the lovers.
here’s to the women with cities in their eyes, cites of their very own. here’s to the ones who make things before other can even imagine them, the ones in love with creation. the ones who find what they want for themselves. here’s to the dreamers.
here’s to the women with civilizations in their eyes. the ones whose knowledge encompasses galaxies and centuries, the ones who thirst for knowledge. the ones who love recklessly and think rationally, who are the tacticians in a fight. here’s to the thinkers.
here’s to the ones who fight back, every day. here’s to the ones who persevere, no matter what. here’s to the ones who don’t take abuse and intolerance lying down.
Okay, I’ve had enough people tell me how much Aloy reminds them of Lexa. I caved. Here is the Clexa/HZD crossover au no one wanted.
Clarke was born deep underground with 99 others when a Cradle facility suddenly reactivated. While exploring one day, 18 years later, she manages to escape to the surface where she meets Lexa of the Nora - the youngest Brave in memory. Clarke’s appearance threatens the Nora’s traditions and way of life, especially when she discovers her gift of making peace with the Machines…
from the dining table is so personal and quiet i feel like i’m listening through a crack in a door and i’m hearing something i’m not supposed to hear that’s come from the most vulnerable and gentle part of a person